


Perchance to Anguish

by princessitsy



Category: Madam Secretary
Genre: Angst, Dmitri drama is so unnecessary and so good at the same time, the slightest hint of bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-21 03:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessitsy/pseuds/princessitsy
Summary: He hasn't seen her in five days, he doesn't know if that's a blessing or a curse. He only knows that everything hurts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the middle of Dmitri drama in Season 2. Dirty, filthy, and angsty, also full of weird tense issues and too many parentheticals, apologies in advance, this was written in a haze at 1 in the morning. I’m not really entirely happy with it but here it is nonetheless. I’m far more of a reader than I am a writer; I’m a hide in the shadows kind of fan.

Henry woke up exhausted, missing Elizabeth while also grateful she wasn't there to prick his never ending guilt. Being near her lately was a balm and an ache all at once.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he glances at her nightstand, and notices that she'd never come home, the delicate stack of papers on top of the detritus stood undisturbed. It was the fifth day in a row they hadn't seen each other, a record for them when they were technically inhabiting the same space. Elizabeth slept at the house the first two nights while he pulled all nighters and the last three nights it had been only him while she was called away for emergency after emergency.

He picks up his phone and sees no new messages. The last text from Elizabeth was at 7:06 the previous night asking him about paying the electric bill with a tag that she'd be at the office all night, the text before that a reminder to her about Jason's field trip sent at 2:47.

Henry sighs. It is past nine so the house is empty and he has no plans on working today. He is tempted to stay in his pajamas and play games on the couch all day. Resisting the urge he stands up and walks toward the bathroom. He turns on the water and moves to grab a towel. The only one left on the shelf is an old beach towel covered in sailboats. The last time it had been down to that one he and Elizabeth had playfully argued about who got to use it after getting out of a joint shower (which they had solely used to continue a heated argument about the finer details of a recent trade treaty). When she snagged the towel and sprinted out of the bathroom he had followed and tackled her to the bed. The wrestling match they then engaged in and the resultant sex (which might or might not have involved some mostly playful spanking and some most definitely not playful biting) ranks among his most memorable recent sexual experiences.

His mind wanders to the deep groan she made when he...Henry shook his head and turns to hang up the towel and step into the now steaming shower. He shouldn't let his mind go there, he knows that, it just makes him hurt, but thinking about the sounds Elizabeth made that night, he is half hard already. No matter their issues he is always desperately attracted to her.

His brain is running though and there is no stopping it, thinking of the sounds leads to him thinking of how he had caused them: a series of particularly deep thrusts, each punctuated by a sharp slap to her ass. Something, he didn't remember what, had made her feel particularly powerless that day and ironically days like that always left her craving submission. (The time she was chewed out by her professor for misfiling some paperwork was the first time he tied her up (an occurrence that had only been repeated 6 or 7 times in their entire relationship, but had always come after major conflict in her life).) The sound she had let out each time his palm connected with her skin echoed in his brain. His hand drifts down to his now fully hard erection and begins stroking it, the memory in his head still playing. When he had bent over her back and put his teeth on her shoulder pressing down with no small amount of pressure the scream she let out liquefied his brain tissues. If it hadn't the waves of pressure on his cock surely would have along with the bucking of her body. After the scream and her pants of "Fuck... God...Just... Right there... Ahhhhhhh," she pushed back hard on her hands, sending him to his knees with her back pressed to his chest, her knees splayed open on top of him. The position wasn't that comfortable, especially for any length of time, but damn did it feel good. It allowed him to go especially deep and the closeness of their bodies ignited him. He had slammed up into her as she pressed down once, twice, three times while reaching around her to put pressure on her clit that was just this side of pain. She had come for the third time that night as he spurted inside her.

In current time, he is now panting as his hand on his cock moves faster, moaning "Elizabeth, please."

As if he summoned her by the force of memory the shower door opens and when he turns from the spray to see what let in the rush of cool air she is standing there, naked except for a pair of underwear. Her pupils are blown wide and the tips of her nipples are pulled in tight. She stares at him, breathing rapidly, for 5 whole strokes of his hand.

"Thinking of me?" she finally manages to croak out. He can't take it anymore, the exquisite torture of her presence and he reaches out and pulls her in (underwear and all). She stumbles slightly over the step but he pushes her into the back wall and slams his lips onto hers, forcing his tongue inside her mouth while he pulls her pelvis towards his now throbbing cock, grinding himself into the soaked cotton. She moans into his mouth and he almost loses it all right there. He yanks at this last barrier between them and maneuvers the navy fabric down her legs and off, throwing them to a corner while he shifts his mouth to her neck, alternately licking and sucking at her most sensitive spots.

He is ready to slam himself into her, a rebuke to all the guilt that was eating him alive when she pushes back, panting. "No. Tell me. What were you thinking of?"

He continues the slow roll of his hips, his cock rubbing along her wetness, reminding her what she is missing, as he replies "About you. About how you moan when I suck your clit and use the barest hint of teeth. About how when I fuck you from behind you go speechless." He is deliberately crude, he so rarely is. He wants to shock her, goad her into some kind of action, maybe into running away.

Instead she tips her head back, eyes closed and huffs out a breath. She looks back at him briefly an unreadable expression flashing across her face before she drops to her knees. Her tongue goes immediately to his tip, swirling around before drifting lower, spinning up and down the length.

"Fuck." is the only word that escapes his mouth.

Her mouth is sin. He'd known that from the first time she had used it on him. On the sofa in his tiny apartment he'd come in two minutes flat. She'd had given him a sly grin as he lay gasping and he'd known right then that he was lost. The decades since then had most definitely secured his damnation.

As her tongue moves over each inch and her lips periodically pucker to gently suck patches of skin her nails scrape over his hips. It isn't enough to finish him off and she knows it. "Elizabeth." a warning and a plea all in one.

Elizabeth looks up at him, smug, and brings her entire mouth down around his erection, sinking slowly until her lips almost meet her fingers circled around the last bit. She maintains eye contact the entire time, only breaking it when she begins moving back and then forward, fucking him slowly with her mouth.

There was no way he was going to last and if they were on better speaking terms right now he knows he would get ribs about his stamina.

" You are absolutely perfect. God I love you" he stutters out. Her rhythm pauses for a moment before she resumes, faster than before, taking him a tad deeper. His hands move from his sides and tangle in her hair, doing his very best not to exert any control (they did that sometimes too but now didn't seem the time).

Looking down at her Henry is overcome with the sight of her blonde hair moving back and forth. His wife, among the most powerful people in the country, at his feet focused only on giving him pleasure, is a heady sight. It isn't often a thought he dwells on, but this morning it is doing something for him. Maybe it feels like an apology for all the things he knew she wasn't actually sorry for because she wasn't actually at fault for them. The why's didn't really matter and he spills into her mouth seconds after warning her with a muttered "I can't..."

She holds him inside her as his spasms subside, swallowing around him, coaxing another pulse out. They stay like that, attached for what seems like an eternity before she stands up.

He wants to pull her towards him, kiss her and see if any remnant of his orgasm remains in her mouth but instead he watches mutely as she reaches for body wash.

It's as if the minute she finished she turned into a completely different person and touching her feels wrong. She is holding herself stiffly and he steps back as she completes a greatly abbreviated hygiene routine.

She opens the door to the shower and steps out, drying herself with the sailboat towel and walking towards the bedroom. He stands there for countless seconds before he turns off the shower and gets out, picking up an old towel from the pile in the corner, quickly rubbing himself dry before wrapping it around his waist to follow her.

When he steps into the closet area she is already partially dressed, underwear and bra on and pulling on a pair of slacks.

" Elizabeth."

When she looks toward him her eyes are full of sadness and knowing, but all she says is "Henry."

"I want..." he trails off unsure what it is he wants aside from Elizabeth, always Elizabeth.

"I know," she says sadly, turning to button her pants and pulls a gauzy pink blouse off the hanger before slipping it on. (And really her habit of wearing dark bras under light shirts, even with a blazer on top, must be designed to torture him, though he's never called her on it). She takes the matching jacket and walks away.

"Wait." he pants out, following her and grabbing her hand. She turns and gives him a half smile.

"I have to get back to work."

He tugs her and she comes with only a little resistance. He kisses her, imagining he can still taste a hint of extra saltiness in mouth.

He pulls back to say in a low voice. "Let me...I want to..."

She shakes her head and puts a hand on his cheek, still close enough for him to feel her breath on his skin. "we're not tit for tat, we never have been." Her next sentence is said with a fervor that belies her relaxed stance "Just figure it out okay. Tell me what you need. I'll do it." With that she walks away for real, disappearing into the bedroom.

He stands there frozen, desperately in love with every inch of her but aching in ways he doesn't understand.

...…...….

That walk might be one of the hardest she's done. Her heart and her sex are throbbing, in pain, in unfulfilled need. She walks downstairs, gathering the belongings she had left scattered. Perhaps she'll slip into her bathroom at the office and just rub her clit fast and hard until she comes. It will be mostly unsatisfying she knows but it will lessen the ache just a tad, hopefully enough so that she can focus on world altering disasters instead of on how much she needs her husband.

What she wants is to run back upstairs and fall into Henry, to take Henry inside of her (though given that he's 50 she knows she'd more than likely have to settle for his tongue and fingers after the explosive orgasm she'd given him.)

When they first started dating he scared her. The need, the want he made her feel was terrifying to the 20 year old who had spent the last five years keeping the world at a distance. Today she didn't know how to exist without all of that want.

The sight of him silhouetted in the shower with his hand on himself while he moaned her name just about made her come standing in the doorway. The distance between them had been aching, she just wanted to close it, even if only for a few minutes. When she opened the shower door she froze though, suddenly unsure if she would be welcome.

She melted at his touch deluded for a moment that maybe this could fix things. She wanted to hear him, to know how he wanted her, ached for her even when she was there but it was all too much and just enough at the same time. Her skin was on fire and she could still see the tenseness in his face, the visible manifestation of his inner conflict. So she had changed the narrative.

She loves having her mouth on his cock. When they first started dating he was surprised at how often she wanted to go down on him. She made fun of him when he told her, telling him most guys would be over the moon. He insisted that he wanted their sex life to be egalitarian. She scoffed, not because he didn't enjoy eating her out, indeed his mouth was on her almost as often as hers was on his, but because it was ridiculous. "Sex isn't about keeping score. It turns me on to watch you come apart, don't take that away from me." In fact, his skin on hers is as close to heaven as she thinks she believes in.

Today it was what she needed, or at least what they could both accept. It helped her feel connected to Henry without crossing this invisible wall they had somehow constructed, maybe it could be an olive branch she had thought. She had been being a little bit absurd she knew, a blow job wasn't going to fix anything, was likely only going to complicate matters.

Shaking her head at herself she climbs into her SUV and directs Matt to drive her back to the office. Displaying his usual tact, he doesn't mention that she had taken far less than the two hours she said she would be. Nor did he me mention her wet hair, so atypical to her normally well maintained coif. She digs in her bag to find a rarely used elastic and pulls the wet strands into a messy bun. She hates wearing her hair like that, but desperate times and all that.

Upon entering the seventh floor she verbally swats away her circling staff. Telling Blake she's taking 45 of personal and to only interrupt her for actual nuclear war or if the president was dead (he looks a little taken aback at that, it isn't something they joke about in this line of work, but he simply nods.)

She pauses in the entryway, debating between going straight to sleep on the couch or going to the bathroom to do other things. She had learned quickly that doing anything more scandalous than a quick kiss in an office with multiple doors that people often entered without knocking was a poor choice. Hopefully Russell Jackson would never know that he had almost seen his newly minted Secretary of State with her husband's erection down her throat. (Russell had been distracted by some commotion in the outer office just as he opened the door, giving Elizabeth time to get herself and Henry in a less compromising position. Though he'd still given her an odd look when she told him she was looking for an earring back when he saw her on the floor.)

Elizabeth goes into the bathroom. Anger simmers in her blood, it is always there lately, but doesn't have any real direction. Anger and sadness and helplessness coil into a twisty ball inside her that leaves her aching.

Leaning against the sink she undoes the button and zipper on her pants. She slips her right hand inside, running a finger along soaked lips. It won't take long she knows, she lets her feelings bubble up and morph into arousal.

She thinks about what she needs from Henry, how he had been so good in the past at giving her exactly what she needed. There was that time a year or so ago, after some useless Ambassador got caught with underage Thai girls and she could do nothing about it for stupid useless iron clad reasons. That night Henry had poked and prodded until she jumped him. She had ridden him hard but couldn't turn her mind off. The only words out of her mouth had been "Please" and "Henry." He had sat up enough to grab her hair and pull it, moving her head to the side so he could reach her neck. He placed open mouthed kisses on her while continuing to tug her hair. The sting had sent her spiraling and when his mouth moved to her nipple and brought it between his teeth for a quick bite she was done. He kept up the assault on both beasts, definitely leaving at least one mark when he bit the skin right where it turned from dark to light. She had become nothing but a creature of need until she came all over him panting and speechless.

Thinking about that encounter has her clenching. She circles her clit with one finger while holding herself open with two others. She keeps playing the memory of Henry's mouth on her breasts, of his fingers inside her, of the feeling when his sex first enters her and she stretches so deliciously on replay. It doesn't take too many repeats before she is spasming in a small orgasm.

She takes her hand out of her pants and wants to sob. She needs her husband right now, desperately, but all she is doing is hurting him and she doesn't even entirely understand why. The universe is a cruel mistress.

She hears Nadine call from the office and she washes her hands yelling to Nadine that she will be out in a moment. Elizabeth can't fix things with Henry right now (and maybe not ever a dark part of her mind thinks), but she can do this, the work that keeps tearing her marriage apart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and ye shall receive, this is the for real end though, though I do have several other plot bunnies for other stories. Post 2x23, slightly less angsty but three times as dirty as the last chapter.

Dmitri is alive, safe and sound on European soil. Henry had wanted to stay, to be a part of the debriefings and medical screens, but after the brief embrace Dmitri made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with his former handler. Thus, Henry now sits in the back of Elizabeth’s SUV on the way back from Andrews. The plane ride was largely without conversation. She had made a few overtures but mostly seemed to understand that he needed time to process. 

He isn’t sure that he will ever be able to get Dmitri’s haunted eyes out of his brain. Maybe dead would have been better, it’s a terrible thought but one that won’t leave his brain. Here he has spent the past months desperately wishing that the boy (because really that’s what the former spy was, Henry couldn’t bring himself to believe that he had known what he was getting into) was alive. Henry had almost ruined his 25 year marriage because he was so wracked with the guilt over the idea that Dmitri was dead and he wasn’t. Now, now all he can think is that maybe dead by a bullet is better than time in Russian custody, tortured who knows how many different ways. 

Elizabeth’s hand moves to rest on top of his, squeezing. He wishes he could reassure her and squeeze back but seeing Dmitri’s very much alive face only ripped off the veneer of normalcy he had been maintaining with Elizabeth. All of it came rushing back, the pain, the uncertainty, the gulf of anguish between them. His hand remains still beneath hers and after a few minutes she pulls hers back.

They need to talk he knows that, about so many things, not the least of which is Conrad’s offer. Vice-President. Sweet Jesus. Now there’s something that can take his mind off the ethical quandaries around whether being tortured is better than being dead. He turns to look at Elizabeth, her profile highlighted by the lights of the city from the window. God, does she even understand what this means? Drawn perhaps by his gaze she turns towards him. Staring into her blue eyes he knows she doesn’t, if there is one blind spot his wife has it’s her own capacity for greatness. Perhaps she technically has more real power in her current position, but the VP slot is more about proximity to power, about the assumption that person would be tapped to run next. He smiles as he thinks that his wife, his brilliant analytical wife, has no idea that Conrad and Russell are grooming her to run for President in five years. He thinks he’ll keep that one to himself for awhile. He reaches up to brush his hand over her cheek before bringing it to rest against her hair, “You’re amazing you know?” There are many things he has thought about this woman during this ordeal, many of them not particularly complimentary, but he never stopped thinking that she was absolutely astounding. She rolls her eyes in disbelief, but brings her hand up to cover his, leaning her head into their combined hands, smiling. “Elizabeth I….” Henry starts but the car pulls to a stop in front of their house at that exact moment and she turns to exit.

Dammit he felt like it had all been there, all of the contradictions and pain and love, he could finally explain it all. Now though, as they enter the house and follow their normal after-trip routines (Henry always wants to sort the mail first thing and Elizabeth usually tries to shower before doing anything else), it feels like it’s all fallen out of brain. If only he could explain to her how now his guilt isn’t gone, it’s transformed, blossomed into a twisted combination of guilt and self-hatred and anger and a little bit of hope. 

He talks to Stevie for a bit, she’s bubbling over with her plans for the summer. He’s happy for her and oh so glad that the wedding is postponed but his mind is occupied elsewhere.

He eventually makes his way upstairs. Elizabeth is sitting in bed, freshly showered, and reading yet another policy report (really how many of those things does the State Department produce a day, sometimes he’s sure they’re just producing increasingly absurd papers to see what they can get away with, the other day he had caught her reading one entitled “Water Security and the Mongol Horse: Opportunities and Threats”). She smiles when he enters and then returns to reading. He goes to the bathroom and completes his hygiene routine on auto pilot. He keeps thinking about Russia and Dmitri and Elizabeth and the morality of intelligence work when you’re asking somebody to betray their country. 

When he exits the bathroom Elizabeth is still reading. “We should both get some sleep babe, it’s been a long day,” he says. 

She smiles indulgently at him and it must not be a particularly important paper because she dutifully sets it down on the ground, takes her glasses off and turns off the light before laying down. 

He tucks himself behind her, banding his arm across her chest and tugging her closer. Elizabeth snuggles back and sighs in contentment. He breathes in the scent of her, citrus and mint, and tries to settle. She is his home and he wants nothing more than to lose himself in the joy of being with her.

Her breathing starts to slow and her body relaxes further into him. He knows he will be unlikely to join her in sleeping tonight so he shifts, planning on going downstairs to attempt and get some work done (or more likely, stare at the computer blankly). Elizabeth stops him with a hand on his arm, “Don’t go.”

“Babe, I just need to do a few things,” Henry replies. He can almost feel her pout, but she releases her hold on his arm. Then he continues, overselling it “I want to see if I can set some things up for Dmitri.” 

It’s the way he says the name, he knows that, it’s full of pain and regret. She turns to face him giving him a knowing look “There are plenty of people who are going to take care of that.” 

He sits up, he can’t look at her when they talk about this. “He was, is, my responsibility. I’m not just going to abandon him.” 

She sits up as well. “You did your part Henry, he’s safe, he’s alive, he will be in the US shortly and set up with a new life. It’s all going to work out and everything is going to be okay.”

“It’s not all okay,” he nearly shouts and he sees her startle from the corner of his eye. He lowers his voice, mindful of the other occupants of the house, and looks towards her “Can’t you see that Elizabeth? I told you before, we played God with that boy’s life. We destroyed him. He will never be the same. He was tortured for months upon months, we did that. We did that to him.” He is nearly sobbing by the end, his voice breaking with emotion. He puts his face in his hands and focuses on breathing. He feels Elizabeth straddle his lap. She places a soft kiss on top of his hands before scooting back. 

Her hands grip his biceps, nails digging in, as she urgently says “You have to stop Henry. You have to give yourself a damn break. What is torturing yourself endlessly achieving?” 

It’s the pain of her nails on his skin that does him in, it’s something real, something present, something that is happening in front of him as opposed to the endless scenarios and debates playing out in his brain. He moves his hands, one to the back of her head and one to her waist, and lunges forward, pressing his mouth to hers, his tongue demanding entrance. 

Elizabeth freezes for a moment but then she melts and she’s giving as good as she gets, putting everything she wishes she could convey to him into the kiss. Her tongue twirls around his before she pulls back just enough to bring his bottom lip between her teeth, biting a little more than gently. He makes a sound that might be from pain or from pleasure, even he’s not sure. 

He has to have her, he needs her skin on his, he’s pretty sure that his next breath depends on it. He scrabbles for the hem of her shirt, tugging it up, forcing them to separate so he can get it over her head. While he’s free he removes his shirt as well, tossing them both to the side. He pulls her forward, back into a kiss. He can barely stand it, every place where their skin is touching feels like fire and all he wants is more of it.

He shifts his head so he can kiss his way down her neck, working his way to her breasts. He takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks before running his tongue around the hardened tip. When he grazes his teeth over the nub, she throws her head back and moans. She brings her hands to his head and pushes him closer. He continues his oral ministrations while bringing a hand up to her other breast. He grasps it, squeezing, before he takes that nipple between two fingers pinching and rolling. Her moans are continuous now and her hips are rocking into him. He switches his mouth to the other breast, using his now freed hand to trace patterns on her back and stomach. He sweeps lower and lower, running his fingers under the edge of her pajama pants while continuing to suck and nip at her. 

His hand just barely brushes the curls between her legs before he brings it back up. She groans, really a little loudly for the fully occupied house. He pulls back from her chest “Shhhh.” She’s always been loud during sex and it’s gotten them in trouble on more than one occasion. The time when she had screamed loud enough that his visiting brother had burst in, sure something was wrong, was particularly memorable. Largely she has gotten better at controlling her volume but sometimes she forgets. 

“Maybe if you didn’t tease me so much I’d be quieter,” Elizabeth says. She pulls him back up to her lips and takes hold of his right hand with hers and guides it into her pants and underneath her underwear. He can feel the heat radiating from her and when, annoyed by his stillness, she pushes his hand deeper he can feel her wetness. His hand still doesn’t move further and she mutters “If you don’t do something I’m going to take matters into my own hands,” against his lips. He thinks about teasing her a bit more, but really can’t stand it with all the distance they’ve been dealing with. He pushes a single finger between her lower lips, curling it, pushing against her opening quickly before bringing it up to her clit moving it back and forth in the way he knows she likes. 

She keeps shifting her body, trying to get a better angle he knows, but her clothes and their position prevent it. He keeps up his gentle massage on her most intimate parts, but after a minute or so she pushes back, causing his hand to leave her pants. She starts shimmying her garments off, “We’re not horny teenagers, we can do this the right way,” she huffs out.

Henry laughs, he brings his fingers, still wet with her, to his mouth, and makes sure she is watching him as he sucks them clean. She narrows her eyes at him and then tugs on his pants. And then they are both naked and she is on top of him as she pushes him flat to the bed while kissing him. He can feel his hardness brushing against her skin and he thinks that maybe she is wrong, maybe they are horny teenagers, because he almost comes just from that.

She reaches down to guide his erection inside of her. She lets out a low moan as he is finally sheathed fully. She sits up, bracing herself on his chest, and starts a steady rhythm of thrusts. He looks up at her, her eyes closed in bliss, head tilted back and her blonde hair brushing her back with every movement. God she is gorgeous and this is exactly what he needs, his wife, just his wife, not the Secretary of State. His brain stutters at that, this is not the right train of thought to go down, but it’s too late. Thinking about her position has him thinking about everything else and instead of his wife he is seeing Dmitri’s bruised and battered face and thinking about all of his own failures. He feels himself start to go soft inside her and he whispers “Stop,” not sure if it’s directed towards her or him. She stops though, opening her eyes, giving him a quizzical look. He can tell the second she feels that his head is not in the game because her look turns to one of sympathy.

“It’s okay Henry. We’ve both been dealing with a lot of stress, it’s normal.” He slips out of her as she shifts up and goes to move off of him. 

“No,” he says as he holds her to him, causing her to straddle him just above his hips. “This isn’t just that. Well it is and it isn’t. I can’t get my failures out of my head. I want to. I just want to be with you, to move past all of this. You, or rather the President and you made a choice, a terrible choice, a horrible choice that hurt someone, but...” 

“I...” Elizabeth starts to say, but Henry continues. 

“It was the right choice.” His face grimaces with the admission.

“I really don’t want to get into the geopolitics of it all because in the end it doesn’t matter, you also moved heaven and earth to save Dmitri, that means something. And yet I still can’t turn my brain off.” 

He hadn’t been able to look at Elizabeth during his speech, staring somewhere off to the right. She leans forward and uses her hand to gently tilt his head towards her so they are eye to eye. “Henry.” The one word is loaded with compassion and love.

She sits back up, not breaking his gaze, and if he’s not mistaken, there’s now a devilish glint in her eyes. “I can’t fix everything, but maybe we can turn that brilliant brain of yours off for one night. If you’re up for it.” As she speaks, he hands are running up her sides and circling the edges of her breasts. Oh she is definitely feeling cheeky. 

“What did you have in mind?” he asks as he brings his hands to her chest. Maybe he can’t get off tonight but that doesn’t mean his wife should have to be left wanting.

She takes his hands and puts them back at his sides. “Well first of all, no touching You can watch, but keep your hands to yourself.” She goes back to tracing circles on her breasts, inching closer to her nipples. When she reaches them she pinches them between her thumb and forefinger, letting out a heavy breath as she does so. She does this a few times, pinching and pulling a little harder than he normally would. 

He can do nothing but watch awestruck. It’s been awhile since they’ve done it this way, sure they’ve had mutual masturbation sessions plenty of times via phone and text (with their lives it’s sometimes the only way they can be intimate; Elizabeth likes to joke that if anybody ever hacks her phone the only thing they will find is Russell Jackson ordering her to the White House and Henry talking about how much he wants her), but this, Elizabeth putting on a show for him is rare, mostly because if they’re together they want to be together. Henry had forgotten how unbelievably hot it is. 

She continues to use her left hand on her breast, but her right hand moves downwards. He is completely enraptured as he watches her use two fingers to thrust shallowly into herself. She lets out a soft moan as she keeps up the action, her eyes drifting shut. He feels the smallest twitch in his groin. 

He watches as she pulls her fingers out; they are most definitely wet. She opens her eyes and holds his gaze as she takes those fingers and slowly circles a nipple before bringing them to her mouth to lick. God, she knows exactly what she is doing, all he wants to do is sit up and suck off the evidence of her arousal he can see glistening on her nipple. He resists though, this is her show. She’s going to kill him, it will be a pleasant death, but he might not survive her (he’s thought that since the first moment he met her, when he went over to investigate some decidedly suspicious noises in the library, sure he was about to find someone having sex in the stacks, and instead found a gorgeous blonde eating ice cream). 

Her fingers move down to her folds, going back and forth between playing with her clit and pushing one or two fingers inside herself. Suddenly she pulls her hand away and gives him a thoughtful look. She’s probably thinking about more ways to destroy him, but he’s absolutely okay with that.

Elizabeth leans over him, reaching for her beside drawer and begins searching through it. Henry is not sure what she’s looking for, but her skin that close to his mouth is absolutely irresistible. He leans forward and kisses her collarbone and brings his hand up to her breast.

She pulls back immediately with a glare, she grabs his hands and pushes them to either side of his head. “I. Said. No. Touching.” Each word comes out like a bullet, sharp and serious. His erection, which had been slowly swelling, snaps to full attention and he should probably be disturbed by that but there’s no room in his head. 

Henry grins unrepentedly. “You’re irresistible.” 

Her facial expression doesn’t change. “Well you better figure out how to resist or I’m going to go into the other room make myself come.” She leans over again and grabs what she must have been looking for in the drawer, a small vibrator, a favorite of theirs because of it’s power and relative quiet. 

He smiles again. “Empty threat.” 

Her face is absolute steel and if she weren’t naked and straddling him he would probably be withering before her, in fact even with that, he feels himself pulling back. 

“Fine.” she says and gets off of him and stands beside the bed. As she starts to walk away he can’t stand to know whether she will actually retreat to the bathroom to make herself come (with the door locked while being loud enough so he can hear everything no doubt). “Okay.” he calls out.

She turns to look at him. “Okay what?”

“Okay I won’t touch you.” A small smile flits across her face at his concession, but it is quickly hidden beneath her stony demeanor. 

She walks back towards the bed. “Unless I give you permission” 

“Unless you give me permission.” he dutifully repeats. This, this is the power she wields so effortlessly out in the world, she usually drops it once she enters their house not even bringing it out for the kids (more often than not he ends up being the disciplinarian), but he’s seen her work and he’s never really surprised that nations bow to her will. 

She straddles him again, smirking. She’s beyond unbelievable. He’s so glad she’s his.

Elizabeth wastes no time, she turns the toy on and brings it between her legs. He can’t help but groan as she pushes it inside herself and starts slowly fucking herself with it. It’s absolutely overwhelming. “I do this sometimes when you’re not here, you know,” she says in a husky voice. Oh he knows, he most definitely knows, she likes to tell him about it. A few weeks ago he was working late and had called her to check in and she had told him, in excruciating detail, how she had used one of their other toys inside herself while she held this one to her clit. He had been surrounded by his colleagues, so all he could do was bite his tongue and turn towards the wall as she described how hard she had come. It had taken over 15 minutes after she hung up for his erection to go down. 

She takes the vibrator out and brings it to the top of her sex, holding it there. Her hips begin a slow rocking motion. She lets out a low moan. 

“Elizabeth. Please.” He needs something, anything.

She stops and meets his eyes, contemplating him.

“Okay,” she says and switches the toy off and tosses it to the side. For a moment he can’t believe she gave in that easily, but then she moves forward instead of backwards. And then she is straddling his face, her wetness just inches from his mouth. She covers his hands, still where she had last placed them, with hers, “These stay here. Your mouth though, that you can use.” With that she lowers herself to him. This is most definitely heaven or hell, he’s ceased caring which one. 

He licks her in one long swipe from back to front, before moving to her opening and thrusting his tongue in and out, tasting her arousal, something he really can’t get enough of. He is surrounded by her and it is everything he needs. 

He wishes he could take a finger or three and use them to fuck her, but he knows what will happen if he does that, so instead he moves his tongue to her clit to tease it.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

He’s using every dirty trick he’s ever learned about eating her out. Not long after they got married Henry told her he was dedicated to bringing her as many orgasms as possible. Elizabeth had laughed and told him she was sure he was up to the job because his tongue was a lethal weapon. He has only improved since then. He alternately flicks and sucks and licks until she’s grinding down on him. He scrapes his front teeth gently against her clit while applying suction and she moans loudly. A couple of repeats of that move and she can’t wait anymore, she is panting with her need to come. Teasing him is one of her favorite pastimes, but she wants to come with him inside her, she needs it. 

Elizabeth pulls away from him and he actually moans in loss. She hovers above him trying to catch her breath. When she thinks she can move without immediately coming she moves back down his body and with no pretense immediately takes a hold if his cock and guides it inside her. The feel of him stretching her walls is divine and she sits there for a moment just reveling in it. He thrusts his hips up a few times and she thinks about chastising him, telling him she didn’t give him permission to do that, but she really can’t focus enough to do that.

He is letting out a low whine and she takes pity on him and starts moving up and down. Starting slowly, squeezing him at the bottom of every stroke with her internal muscles, but she can’t keep that up for long and soon she is slamming down on him because it’s not enough, she needs more, more pressure, more speed. She doesn’t want to be in control anymore. She locks her knees around his hips and uses her hands to guide him to flip them so she’s on the bottom.

Henry freezes, his weight on top of her. “Move. Fuck you can move. Do what you want. Just take me,” Elizabeth almost screams. 

He doesn’t waste a second, he grabs her legs and lifts them, spreading them. He sets up a hard rhythm and he knows neither one of them is going to last much longer, the build up has gone on for too long. He brings his hands to her nipples and squeezes them, hard, between his fingers. She cries out and he can feel her walls start to pulsate against his cock. He moves a hand to her sex and uses a finger to press firmly against her clit, flicking it slightly up before repeating the action. Her vocalizations are pure nonsense as she comes. 

He pushes himself into a her a few more times before he explodes inside of her. He falls down on her, putting most of his weight on her. She should be uncomfortable, but being completely enveloped feels too good. They are both sweaty and panting. She tucks her head into his neck and grips him tightly with her arms and legs. “Mine,” quietly. 

“Yes,” Henry replies. She startles, she hadn’t thought she was loud enough for him to hear. 

He doesn’t say anything more and she thinks, hopes, that she made him stop thinking for a bit. She knows they aren’t going to fix everything in one night, but maybe this can continue the healing. Sex has always been an incredibly important connector for them, has always been an effective coping skill during hard times (she knows that their therapist would probably say they need to talk it out, and while that is also true, sometimes they also just need to fuck it out). 

He sighs and moves off of her before adjusting them both so that he is spooning her, he pulls the cover up and over them. The bed is going to be a mess and she should really get up and try to tidy things up not to mention go to the bathroom, but she is too comfortable, it can be dealt with in the morning along with everything else. It really is all going to be okay.


End file.
